Rumor has It: An Explanation
by Ariesque
Summary: Sequel to Snow in April. Remy dies and when the XMen go to New Orleans to seek his body, Rogue is kidnapped, saved, and housed by strangers. She then runs into the past she was meant to avoid and finds that love is harder to forgive than to forget.
1. Two Months After

Rumor has It  
  
By Ariesque  
  
Genre: Angst? Not sure at the moment--maybe you can tell me :)  
  
Rating: PG--PG-13 for some language   
  
Story Dedication: To Loliatas-Sister for her kindest cooperation on Remy's background and family. From all that I have, thank you.  
  
Author's Note: Miss me much? I've had this chapter kept on my computer for God knows how long, and I finally decided it wasn't going to get any better. It's a cluster of different POVs of the X-Men on Remy's departure of the group. It gets twisted and confusing, but it'll all come together in the end. Trust me. And I'm sorry if the expectations of this epilogue were high and I've dashed your hopes on my writer's block. Someday, I plan to overcome it.  
  
Chapter One: Two Months After  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
  
  
Dearest Rogue,  
  
I've often wondered how you've been, but am yet to enclose any returning address, unbeknowest to our connection, Jubes, because I feel there is no reason. And now I've let my eagerness take over me. You see, when I departed, I couldn't bear looking back, seeing your disappointed face that left a forever imprint on my mind. I've found it hard to cope without hearing the familiar footsteps of yours down the hall that always made my heart skip a beat. I know you doubt me, but I had been learning as much about you as I could to love what you did and dislike what hurt you. Since I've left, I can't bring myself to learn how to forget you. You don't know it, but when you cursed my name, I found I loved you even more. When you blushed when I spoke to you, I was elated. And when you made John your beau, my heart was dashed against the haven I thought could be mine. I can't help thinking I've lost someting I've wanted all my life. Please respond; I've enclosed a returning address to hear your thoughts.  
  
Remy LeBeau   
  
***  
  
John looked up; eyes glistening with a sickening, evil malice. Crushing the letter between his hands, he angrily tossed it into the fireplace, flames devouring the paper with blatant greed.  
  
He then smiled, feeling accomplished and relieved. "Have dat as a message," he scoffed, spitting into the fire.   
  
***   
  
Remy LeBeau was tall for his age. If he had any pride in anything, he'd say he loved how tall he was. Now as he ran, he couldn't have thanked the Lord enough for his long legs which swiftly carried him down the streets of New Orleans. Some people have all the luck, he thought to himself, climbing the stairs to the top of the building. He dreamed he was running from the cops, flying with his billowing trench coat behind him like that of Superman and his cloak. He had sailed through the clouds, away from the horror and torment of the sirens flashing angrily at him, cursing his getaway. Oh, it was glorious. Remy knew that the sky was his only escape. That was why he had taken the staircase instead of the elevator. The challenge was there and he was able to take it. The cash was implanted in one of his many pockets, safely tucked away from purgers' eyes and his concern. Two at a time, he reminded himself. It never helped anyone to be slow when it came to running.  
  
He was almost at the top of the stairs when he heard them shout. The Cops, he grumbled in his brain, irritably. They always ruined perfect getaways, that's for sure. The door at the top was locked, so he kicked it open. It flung out with such ease that Remy smirked while gathering his loot, checking its bulk in his pocket.   
  
This is just too simple, he laughed to himself. A helicopter hovered just miles away from the building as Remy ran to the edge. A look over his shoulder told him that thirty stories from the solid ground would be a nasty splatter. By now the police had cornered him, both sky and on the same level.   
  
"Freeze!" cried one, a gun poised at Remy, ready to shoot. So were thirty others. Remy grinned, counting them.   
  
"I'd hate t' cut it all short, fellas," he said, inching nearer to the ledge so that he was soon standing with his feet teetering on the edge. "But I have a date with destiny, and if y' knew anythin' about thet, y' also know y' can never be late."   
  
"Don't do it!" screamed another man. Remy spread his arms and leaned back.   
  
He fell through the air, all the while laughing.  
  
~~~1. St. John Allerdyce~~~  
  
I still remember dat day when Remy left fer New Orleans, draggin' in his only suitcase intah Bill's Pub, fer a parting drink he scheduled. I was sittin' in dah corner, glupin' down my fourth shot when he came saunterin' in, as if he owned the joint. Slidin' intah dah seat in front o' me, Remy mumbled a hello and jumped a chance tah shoot fer conversation by takin' out a small box and slammed it on the table. I jumped with the shot glasses.  
  
"A little hard, are'ncha, Rems?" I noticed. He ignored me and opened dah box.   
  
Inside was a ring bearin' a grey stone.  
  
"I've been meanin' t' give dis t' her," he explained, a pensive look crossin' his eye, "but now thet's it's over w' Jean, I'd like ya t' give it t' Rogue." He slid the box over after closin' it. I caught and clamped my hand over it.  
  
"Evil Rems," I scolded, playfully. "Never e'en loved dah Shelia, eh?" He rummaged in his pocket for a fag (cigarette). Failin' tah find one, he rasped, "Really, John. Can't y' give yur fellow acolyte some heads up fer a long trip?" Standin' suddenly, he knocked over two o' dah four glasses on dah table. I stared, ungrateful.   
  
"Just like dat, huh? Gonna leave wi'out sharin' a tinny (beer) wit me?"   
  
"Sorry, Johnnie. Haven't t' time now." He laid a couple dollars on the table. "There. So y' won't bicker 'bout me while I'm gone." He grabbed my hand and gave it a hearty shake. "Take care, bloke (man) is it? Dun be so hard on Piotr and," he tightened his grip around my hand for a moment, "good luck w' Rogue."  
  
I can't recall a moment where I had been more dumbfounded in my life. Watchin' him go without another word let bitter questions brew in my stomach. I mean, what would Magneto say when he finds Remy gone?  
  
Piotr?  
  
And what about Rogue?  
  
-Good luck with Rogue- He had meant it, I decided. Remy hated to see relationships bloom if he weren't invovled in some way. Tah have Remy talk to -me- about Rogue was like man steppin' on dah moon.  
  
Impossibly impossible. Too good tah be true.   
  
Sittin' in my dingy room back at Magneto's Dome, I glared at the ring, livid. No wonder Remy didn't give it to Jean -- it was absolutely hideous. And I won't give it tah Rogue, I thought, decidedly.  
  
She deserved better anyway.   
  
First thing dah next day, I took it to Gerald's (seeing dat it was the only jewlery shop in miles of Bayville) tah see if I could refund or exchange it. Dah clerk told me I could do neither, since it was purchased in November of last year. I walked out of there, more disappointed than I had started. How now? Rogue would never accept dis.  
  
"What dah -hell- is it made of anyway?!" I wondered aloud once I got back to examinin' it. I held the ring between my fingers, rackin' my brain. Finally comin' tah a conclusion that it was more cubic zirconium dan anythin', I placed it back in the box and sighed. I could never afford tah buy another ring. Which drew another question from his mind:  
  
HOW DID REMY EVER HACK THIS MUCH MONEY TO BUY A RING HE AIN'T EVER GONNA GIVE? UNLESS IT WAS BOUGHT WITH SOMEONE IN MIND...  
  
"He knew he'd never give it to Jean, so maybe he only bought it tah satisfy someone's taste. To please someone..."  
  
Rogue. It was the only name dat popped into my mind. Now more than ever I couldn't give her dat ring.   
  
Dat night, I trashed in my bed, thinkin' 'bout Remy and Rogue and dah ring. Did he mean tah give it to her from me or from him? He knows I'm with Rogue...  
  
Good luck with Rogue. The thought of Remy likin' Rogue boiled my blood. I took up the box and tossed it to one side carelessly before grunting. He's gone now, I recollected, reassurin' myself. He's gone, possibly thousands of miles away by now with dat girl [what's-her-face?], Belladonna, one way or the other, dreamin'.   
  
"And I'm frickin' lying awake," I said to myself.   
  
Good luck with Rogue. Getting up, I grabbed the box and threw it across the room. It banged against one far wall and dropped behind my dresser. In the next room, I could hear Piotr stir from the noise; then silence once more.   
  
In the morning, I finally concluded that Remy meant tah give it to Rogue from me. Picking it up and findin' it still intact, I decided to give it to her in a couple of weeks. Maybe she'll forget he e'en bought it fer her in the first place, if he did at all.   
  
Which is exactly what I did. Feelin' it in my pocket, I knew she'd love it the moment she stepped into Swiss Louis*. Black and purple from head tahoe, she staggered in, her two green eyes shinin'somethin' dangerous. I knew dat look and it told me not tah bother her too much tonight. She took her seat as the waiter placed her ginger ale I ordered in front of her. She dropped her things to one side, avoidin' my eyes for a minute. I cleared my throat, unsure what was goin' on, and started her on a conversation.  
  
"Well, you look lovely tonight, Sheila," I said. It was true; she was Gothic, yes, but beautiful. Right now, though, she looked especially frail, and I wished she wouldn't make me wonder so. "How's everythin..." But as Gambit did, she jumped any more of my attempted conversation by saying, "John, Remy's dead."  
  
I stared, speechless. Watching as she silently sipped her drink, I didn't know whether to laugh or weep. Observing her dry eyes, I did neither and continued to stare.   
  
Then, words managed to form in my throat and I was able to speak again. "H-How do you know?" She took up her bag and rummaged through it, before slapping down a newspaper with the bold headline: MAN JUMPS TO DEATH; BODY REMAINS YET TO BE FOUND. There was a picture, clumsily shot from a distant view, of a man falling in front of a dreary building.   
  
"Hank zoomed in a couple times, and they're sayin' it's him," she rasped, rather severely. "We're goin' to Nawlins tomorrow, yah know. Prof. wants proof." Rogue took out a fag, and I shot her a weary glance.   
  
"I thought you said it was a one time deal," I spat, snatchin' it from her thin, gloved fingers. Her eyes blazed green fire.   
  
"Well, nicotene is addictin'," she said as-a-matter-o-factly, and finished her G.A. "And anyway, Ah wasn't stayin' long, really. Ah gotta git back--Jean's a mess." She got up and bumped the table a bit, as Remy did when he brought dat ring down on dah table. Dah whole time we were together, I didn't bring up dah ring. She looked so disgruntled, I knew she wanted me tah keep away. "Ah'll see ya tomorrow at ten, 'kay, Johnnie?" She kissed dah tip of her gloved finger and pressed it against my own lips. Hurrying away, I could see her lightin' another fag and found myself hurtin' real bad for her.   
  
"Love yah," I mumbled, but nobody but dah candle in front of my face actually heard me.  
  
~~2. Hank McCoy~~  
  
Death by suicide isn't as glorious as many preceive it. I wasn't particularily happy when I blew up that picture on the front of Bayville Times, having to find that it was Remy LeBeau, making the fatal jump to destiny. He didn't seem all that bad to begin with-- cheeky, maybe, but definitely someone worth having on their side. But, not to sound cheeky myself, it seems that Mr. LeBeau did the plunge for Jean, for let us not forget the crushing, defiant blow that she gave him just a few hours before their wedding,   
  
by  
  
calling  
  
it   
  
off.   
  
Shock turned to confusion, as everyone regarded Mr. LeBeau as the sort to not worry about, but then again, we thought the same of Scott, who smashed his car into a wall. That being said, you could feel the anxiety when the news reached Xavier, who had thought insanity was overruled to the last degree in his manor. Being mournfully wrong, he immediately called together a meeting, including the acolyte Piotr Rasputin without the presence of John Allerdyce for he could not be found.   
  
Holding up the newspaper, he went directly to the chase: "As you know, Remy LeBeau has been gone for three weeks now, staying with his family in New Orleans, Lousiana." He cleared his throat for this next part. "Take a look a this--" he pointed to the picture with the headline: MAN JUMPS TO DEATH; BODY REMAINS YET TO BE FOUND. "Mr. McCoy has enlarged the face--" here he held up two photos clearly showing Mr. LeBeau's face, of benevolence and insanity, "--and we've reached some sort of conclusion of the man to be Remy." Silence ruled the faces of the X-Men, and I noticed Miss Rogue's to darken a bit, not with surprise but with disappointment. "We are not sure if he is dead at all; so I suggested that the new recruits stay, with the exception of Jubilation--" her head lifted with curiousity-- "and we find the truth out for ourselves." Ten in the morning they would be leaving, and I would stay with Ororo, since she was with child, and Logan would go in search of the supposed body.  
  
I couldn't help recalling that dreadful day of April sixteen, when I was trying to get my suit on, trying to fit into the jacket that seemed five sizes smaller than what Jean had me fitted in the first place. There was a distant noise outside my door, and I cracked it open -- a peek wouldn't hurt, I thought-- and saw Mr. LeBeau strolling down the corridor, a tattered suitcase carried by one hand. Poking my head out, I inquired about his own matters, wondering where he could possibly be going. Turning to me, I saw the face so youthful and discouraged, as if he were a writer that turned to his own books only to find they had been devoured by ruthless bookworms. He nodded to me, thinking of an answer.  
  
"I'm leavin', Mr. McCoy."  
  
"And your purpose?" I questioned. It alarmed me that he was, and wondered about Jean.  
  
He shrugged in response.  
  
"And Jean?"  
  
He shrugged again.  
  
"Why then?" His glare was so demeaning, I grew perplexed.  
  
"Jean called it off. Good bye Mr. McCoy." And he walked away. It wasn't his answer that appalled me--it was the way I just let him go.   
  
I don't think I ever felt more guiltier in my life.   
  
~~3. Jubilation Lee~~  
  
Besides playing with Jean's heart, messing with Rogue's mind, and driving Scott over the edge, I'd hafta say this is certainly the cruelest thing Remy LeBeau has ever done in his life. Once we get to New Orleans to find his body [and I KNOW there IS no body], everyone will find him alive and think themselves foolish for doubting the Scandilous Remy would ever go back on his word of returning. Nuh-uh.   
  
Or at least, that's what he's driven me to believe.  
  
But I'm not really surprised that he turned the tables on us and jumped off some forty-story building to rouse any suspicions of what he's been up to down in that city. He's known for that, and Xavier'd be darned if he ever came across -that- prediction. I've seen a brighter spark in that red eye of Remy's, especially when he picked me up after school a mere three weeks ago, and drove us down to the cannery for a slice of pizza. He ordered anchovies on the side of his to give to me, because he knows that's what I like best. Remy always said, "I have somethin' t' tell you," and I always expected another new glimpse of Rogue: last week it was her personality he wanted to know better, the week before was the wall barricading the two of them that he wanted to climb, and the week before that, was the discovery that she liked roses. But instead, he surprised me with, "I'm gonna go down to Nawlins f' a couple a weeks. Xavier wants me t' visit my folks." He winked as I sunk my teeth into my pizza, which now was made tasteless. Needless to say, I could've gone with another round of Rogue info.   
  
"But you said you hated them," I recalled, taking up my fork and eating the anchovies by themselves. He shrugged.  
  
"I guess I need it. Being up in high society makes y' haughty," and he laughed, heartily. I was relieved, for I hadn't heard such an honest laugh in a while, and said, "This isn't to get away from Jean, is it?" He laughed again and reassured me it was for a greater cause. "My spirits are at a low, petite; I musn't hurt myself," and he got this far-off look in his eye that told me he was going for something much more.   
  
I sat up then, finishing my anchovies, and replied, "Then go. If you'll write everyday, I won't complain." He smiled, which made me smile, and we sat like stunning idiots, smiling at nothing for a long time.  
  
"Den, I shall. Honest t' Diu, I shall," and we shook on his oath. He didn't break it, for when he left, he sent me heaps of stories and glorious triumphs and adventures, making me wonder if he'd ever have the heart to come back again. Included in all the envelopes he sent everyday, there was a decent note to Rogue, which I always gave to John, who always was there to hastily take away her mail for her. Rems never left a returning address, which distressed me, but I knew he would always know I read his lengthy letters and considered them heartily.  
  
So if he should be dead, he's really missing out.   
  
The last letter he wrote to me was the day before the newspaper came out. He said: With kindest pleasure, dearest Jubes, I am to take a train back to Bayville in the morning tomorrow. I'm lookin forward to seein you once more, along with everyone else." When news came that he had "died", I was disturbed, thinking Remy had gone too far this time, but managed to not care so heavily, with the knowledge that he could take care of himself.  
  
I slept through most of the flight there; woke when Logan was just about landing the Jet. When we did descend, I forced myself to get up as Scott put us into groups: him, Jean, Kurt, Evan, Logan, and Piotr, Rogue, Kitty, and John. Xavier told me I was to stay with him, and meaning not to displease him, walked with him without complaint. Kurt blew a kiss, Jean waved timidly, and Rogue patted my shoulder as they separated, wandering through the bayous of 'Nawlins' as Remy'd like to say. Looking around, I tried to look pleasant and wondered who to blame for being cruel to me now.   
  
***  
  
"Please Rogue, you're running up too fast--we should stop once in awhile," John acknowledged, breathless and vexed. She turned to him with an indignant look in her eye.   
  
"Ah thought we weren't gonna fidget and complain, Johnny. If ya were gonna complain, why didn't ya stay behind?" she spat, a leg paused over a rock. Something in John's eyes flickered malevolently; he paused from exhaustion.   
  
"Yah only care fer dat damn Cajun! Finding him yur only concern?" he digressed angrily, finding his voice despite the lack of breath. A look of malice flushed her face generously. Kitty recognized this and came to her side, not wanting a brawl.  
  
"Like, I think we should split for a while, ya know? Petey, take John thataway--" she pointed to the marshes, "Rogue and I will explore this other side." With that, she grabbed her roommate's arm and dragged her across the bayou. It wasn't until they were clear out of the others' way, when Kitty let go, with much tryanny from Rogue.   
  
"What's your problem? Ah was fahne."   
  
"Fine? Like, you were gonna kill your boyfriend. Like, that's not fine."   
  
"Ah prefer it to some of your expressions. God, Ah need a cig." The moonlight suddenly passed through the clouds; the night seemed threatening. All at once, there were the sounds of giant footsteps, buzzing misquitoes and the evil groans of alligators. Kitty grabbed unto Rogue's arm, looking for some haven. But when she had a glimpse of Rogue, she found a stranger in her place; an unfriendly eye piercing her sight.   
  
Kitty screamed.   
  
Phasing through the man, she ran. Her mind halted and asked the confounded question: Where was Rogue? Surely they hadn't taken her...had they? She turned back, but when she did, the moon revealed its shine through the fog, and then there was no Rogue; no one else returned her desperate calls. Overcome with fear, she panicked, and hurried back, too terrified to scream.  
  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Special Thanks To: BOOM-BOOM, Meowzkat, gothgirl05, Goddess Evie, SadYear, Seraphim, TayTay, simple-charlotte126 for adding me to their favorite's lists! I'm quite flattered :)  
  
Also, thanks to Carla for going to EMIA and signing the guestbook! Makes me proud that people actually go there anymore...  
  
Up next: Piotr's POV, Henri LeBeau's Journal, and Rogue's. Is it 


	2. Southern Gamble

Rumor has It  
  
By Ariesque  
  
Genre: Adventure/Mystery/Romance  
  
Rating: PG--PG-13 for some language   
  
Story Dedication: To Loliatas-Sister for her kindest cooperation on Remy's background and family. From all that I have, thank you.  
  
Author's Notes: To those who don't know Remy's family or past, there have been quite a few characters, but the ones centered in this piece of fiction are: Henri LeBeau, his brother by adoption, Merci his wife, Emil, Etienne, Theo are his cousins, Tante Mattie (I'm not truly sure who she is, but I presume she's some kind of aunt to the guild) Belladonna and her brother Julien are in charge of the Assasins Guild. Please do note: I'm not sure where the two guilds (Thieves and Assassins) are located, but I suppose they are close to each other in area, being that they are rivals.  
  
Chapter Two: Southern Gamble  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
Kitty's boots clomped the ground, tired, sullen, anxious.   
  
"Peter!" she called, helplessly. Oh God, what are they going to do when they, like, find out Rogue's gone? "Peter!" her voice rang out a second time. This moment, Piotr appeared, followed closely behind by John wearing a hideous scowl on his face. Seeing her despair, Piotr took up jogging until he was within her distance, where she ran into his awaiting arms. There passed a moment of silence, in which John took the time to notice Rogue was nowhere to be seen. Feeling a surge a panic, he inquired the fear-stricken Kitty of her friend's whereabouts. Kitty looked at him, as though dreading the question.   
  
Then in a shy voice: "I don't know."   
  
In which, John exploded.  
  
"How could you lose her?! She's extremely hard to LOSE!" Piotr nudged him back from attacking the poor girl, but John persisted.  
  
"I, like, didn't lose her, John! Some guys...they just...they, like, kidnapped her." Another moment of silence.   
  
"I can't believe dis!" John cried, angrily. "No, no. I will not take dis lightly! You, love, are lying."   
  
In which Kitty recriminated with, "LYING?! You said so yourself, Rogue is, like, extremely hard to lose! Why under all of God's heaven would I have the desire to, like, lose her?!"   
  
Then Piotr said softly, not to annoy her, but to ease her irritation, "This time, I think I side with John. Not because I don't believe you, but the story itself is unbelieveable." But instead of doing what was formerly said, Kitty's irritation grew along with her unbecoming frown.  
  
"I'm NOT making anything up, Petey! You have to believe me! Why would I lose her? Why would..." Then she broke down into a series of sobs, much to Piotr's mortification. Feeling that her desire to express her misery was because of him, Piotr took to calming her down, while John remained hostile with his unanswered questions looming around the bayou.   
  
"Who did yah see, if yah saw anyone, and being dat yah did, I suppose it wasn't anyone yah knew?" he asked, as Kitty wiped away her tears.   
  
"I can't understand why you don't believe me. Like I said: there was this man, and I saw nobody else. Then when I phased through him, I remembered Rogue but she was nowhere to be, like, found."  
  
"But why would dey kidnap Rogue? Who here would have anything tah do w' my love, if they were tah know her at all?" For a minute he pondered this, never considering his company, who sat like stones wondering what else was there to do but watch the pyro digress.   
  
Then, in a flurry, he snapped his fingers.  
  
"I've got it," he declared, soberly. "If there be anyone who knew Rogue, who had anythin' tah do w' da Sheila, would know exactly who they'd find and figurin' it'd be Rogue, kidnap her." Kitty, who didn't have the slightest idea of what John was talking about, nodded in her confusion, while Piotr, much used to John's blabbering, caught on much more quickly then his mate and said, "So you think the dead has something to do with."  
  
"How else?" John inquired, thoughtfully. "It's perfect. Who could think o' commitin' suicide and returnin' tah kidnap dah one he can't have?" He scowled, angrily, as if seized by a malicious idea.   
  
"Who other," he said, glaring at Piotr, "than Remy LeBeau?"   
  
  
  
*1. Henri LeBeau  
  
  
  
"Hot murky July," I complained aloud, lazily leanin' back on de porch, w' a sigh o' scorn. "Tante, no disrupting me -- I'm tired," I said t' de woman standin' by de screen door. I knew she nodded, though I didn't see and tried t' fall asleep. But how could I? Those blasted Assassins were up t' their usual ruckus, chantin' their kidnappin' hymn and Merci only know how I -hate- thet song.   
  
But dey doesn't stop.   
  
I drew my hat o'er my face, annoyed. The noise hardly faded.   
  
Turing on my side, I found it only made it worse, and in vain, got t' my feet.  
  
"Tante! I'll be back soon!" I cried, stompin' down t' board my small row boat, gatherin' enough rage t' last me up to the Assassins' Place. Dockin' my watercraft, I decided it'd be best t' cut t' de chase, be it Belladonna or Julien.  
  
But when I followed de path up t' our rivals, I sneaked a peak in de window after hearin' Bella scream, "Y' nitwits! Idiots! Lame brains! How can y' mess dis up? The instructions read Lisa Frillan--a strawberry blonde! If Julien even gets word o' dis...o'... Dieu! Get me a gun; I must do away w' de unfortunate!" Dere seated before Bella was a girl, not any older den I suspect seventeen. She was bound, hands, feet, and mouth while tears welled up in her eyes. I found dis pathetic, and feelin' a bit sorry f' de femme (girl), stepped up t' the door and knocked. Bella answered, and upon seeing me, forced an innocent face.  
  
"Why, mornin' Mista Henri! How y' today?" she asked, sweetly. I frowned, rememberin' my decision t' cut t' de chase.  
  
"I find your noise a bit loud," I told her, flatly. Belladonna turned red, and I could tell she was not pleased.  
  
"Do y' -want- somethin'?" she asked, bitterly. I contained my keen composure, while hers fastly deteriorated.   
  
"Oui (Yes)," I muttered, smugly, takin' a peek in. Dere was the girl, wearin' de most pathetic look I ever saw anyone manage. Belladonna saw me lookin' and quickly blocked my view.  
  
"Mista Henri! Why I never though you'd be so much as rude as t' go an' snoop in people's houses!" she cried, mockingly scolding me. I stood before her, growing exasperated.  
  
"What did she do, Bella, huh? So bad as t' kill her?" Bella burned scarlet w' rage.   
  
"None yur business, Henri," she spat, trying t' close de door on me, but I clogged de gap w' my foot.   
  
"Bella, Bella," I sang, soberly. "I ain't leavin', honey, til I get an' answer." We struggled t' gain ground.  
  
"I'll sic Julien on y'! I swear t' Dieu!" she screamed, but I wouldn't budge.  
  
"Answers, Bella. Y' know better den t' toy w' lives like thet." I scolded.  
  
"I can kill as I please!" she retorted, firmly. I frowned at her conscience.  
  
"Does Julien e'en know y' got dis girl here? Ain't he w' my Pop?" She quit bangin' de door on my foot and scowled angrily at me.  
  
"I'm in charge right now, Henri. Merde, I can do away w' people--an' I'll kill y' if y' don leave!" I held de door w' my hand and gave her a hard look.  
  
"Tell me de truth, Bella, and I won' tell Julien thet y' be foolin' around, messin' up his carpet an' all." She was mute f' a second, ponderin' my compromise.  
  
"My dim-witted men brought back de wrong femme t' assassin." Den, she pointed angrily and continued w', "How can dey not tell de difference between a strawberry blonde an' an auburn?! Putain, are dey color-blind?!" She proceeded t' pull her long curly crown an' advised herself restaint by takin' up a nearby gun and loadin' de encasement.  
  
"So, y' gonna shoot her?" I asked. She sensed my concern and scoffed, haughtily.  
  
"She mean no more t' me den y', so why not?" I shook my head and tsked aloud.  
  
"Aw darlin', have y' no heart?" She found dis statement hilarious, for she laughed whole heartedly in my face.  
  
"Henri dearest, why what whould y' do if y' were in my place?" She asked as if concerned along w' me.  
  
"I'd let her live," I answered, frankly, which roused another high-pitched laugh from the lady.  
  
"Oh would y' now? And run the risk of her rattin' me out?"  
  
"How do y' figure she would?" I asked, triumphantly. Belladonna's sowl drooped, and she glanced at de femme, who had been silent during our conversation. Approachin' her, Bella turned capricious, danglin' de gun clumsily in de femme's face.  
  
"Look 'ere, dearie. I've got a weapon, an' if y' e'en -dare- try t' rat me t' anyone, I'll personally see t' it y' don't live another day because o' it." Seein' de girl's expression turn frightened, Belladonna ripped off de rope tying de femme's hands an' w' satisfaction, whisked de girl t' me.  
  
I looked at Belladonna, not comprehendin'.  
  
"Adieu Henri," she bid me, but I clenched my jaw and rasped thet I didn't understand. She sat down, lightin' herself a cig. "Y' wanted her t' live so now y' get rid o' her. Like I said before--she's o' no concern t' me." She laughed uproariously, as I staggered out w' my new acquired baggage followin' close behind.  
  
2. Piotr Rasputin  
  
Twenty minutes before Katja came bounding to us, John had succeeded in calling me "Tiny" and "Mr. High and Mighty" all in his rage of having argued with Rogue over a delicate matter such as Remy. Then, he sat down, consoling himself by burning branches of all sizes--big ones, small ones, smothering into ashes...  
  
I have seen him angered before, many times accomplishing to burn acres of forests and more than plenty of bridges. It seems as though I am his only friend and confidant--trying as I usually do to understand his many personalities. I hate to admit, but I wonder what the reason was, of Rogue deciding to choose John, when it was apparent Remy wouldn't see his wedding day, but it's not what I should be left to think [Of course, this is also something I hate to admit, but I think Remy didn't want to marry Jean at all. But like I said, it's not of what I think].  
  
I had my doubts since I found him up in Remy's room-- small wonder he be wreaking havoc on the day before the--[ahem]-- almost wedding. Imagine my curiousity aroused at having to find John among the thief's things, taking out his lighter from his back pocket. He backed away and was surprised to find his nose meet my arm. Smugly, he asked if I saw anything.   
  
And what was I supposed to say? No? Of course I told the truth and still was reprimanded for it.  
  
"Yah sawn't tell Rogue!" he warned, angrily. I done nothing tragic--I did not steal anything and I have no desire in killing anyone!" I stood there, nodding.  
  
"I know John," I assured him. "Rogue is not to have any knowledge of this."  
  
"Damn straight,"he muttered curtly. Then his expressions turned pensive and he asked me,"So-- if Remy doesn't marry Jean, do yah think he'd make a good match fer Rogue?"   
  
I glared at his question.   
  
"What answer are you expecting?" I asked, knowing full well his expectations wanted me to say no. He stifled a nervous laugh.  
  
"Petey-- this ain't about me. I just wanta know de truth, 'cause aren't yah a truthful guy?" I wanted to agree, but kept my pride to myself. "Yah wanta know what I think?" he continued, jumping any answer from me, "It's good Remy's taken, else Rogue won't know how well it is w' out him." He smiled, running a keen hand through his thick, tousled hair. "Or how well it is w' me." I looked up, almost startled. I mean, I knew I should have detected John had some plan up his sleeve-- it just wasn't as conspicuous as were his other plans.   
  
"Lemme tell yah somethin'--" he said, patting the chair next to him. He had reason to relax--Remy wasn't due for another half-hour.   
  
"I love Rogue. I don't have to announce it tah yah; yah read me like a book. But she's cooped up w' reveries of Rems, so much dat she don't see da chance she can have w' me." He held up a note; it hung loosely between his fingers. I took it and skimmed through the words. Looking over at him, I narrowed my eyes to apply my opinion.  
  
"Why do you have a letter from Rogue to Remy?" I asked him. His grinned darkened.  
  
"She put it in his trench coat pocket." My scolding mask crept back unto my face.   
  
"John! How can you?" I asked, wondering.   
  
"Guess, when love drives you, you become greedy." He meant to make himself seem the good guy in this, and yet, that was far from possible.   
  
"True love doesn't require falsehoods, John," I argued, but he seemed unruffled at my response.  
  
"No, no Petey. This is different. I -love- Rogue. I'm dis close in claiming her--if only she just realizes who really truly loves her." He took the note back and out came his lighter again. "I have tah take desperate measures," he mumbled, the lighter clicking, "if Rogue should ever care fer me." He tried burning the edge, but I intervened.  
  
"John!" I cried. "This is not playing fair!" But he scoffed at my concern before smiling.  
  
"You're not gettin' where I'm going fer, Petey," he sighed. "It's a matter a power an' luck. Yah know Remy's power, don't cha?"   
  
"Yes," I said, feeling uneasy.   
  
"Well, if I can control fire and make it explode..."  
  
"John!" I exclaimed again, finally getting the picture. "Now that is -really- not fair!" My pyro-esteemed friend was disappointed and didn't mind showing it.  
  
"I can't believe yur takin' -his- side," he spat, irritatingly. "How can yah possbily believe Remy is ideal fer her? When all he does is cozy up, only tah dispose o' her in da end?"   
  
He lit the corner of the note, controling it from burning the whole paper. I watched, helplessly. John noticed and slapped my arm in a friendly manner.  
  
"Lighten up, Piotr. Just think-- Rogue'll finally be loved and Remy''ll learn his lesson." He placed the note back in the pocket and smiled, bitterly.   
  
So, I would like to say John was found out of this personal crime, but indeed, he was not. Remy, needless to say, was framed in front of the dismayed Rogue and the better of all of us--blowing such a sentimental note like it was a regular playing card. John, who had the better of the doubt from the beginning, won the girl.  
  
Of course, this was not the first time he tried to turn Rogue against her crush. Oh yes, there were the roses he gave and later mutilated, hoping she'd suspect and hate Remy for the silly crime. But she turned the tables on him, shrugging it off like spilt milk.   
  
But don't get me wrong, I find John trusting and desiring and passionate about Rogue--it's just how he got her I don't agree with.  
  
I have never told Rogue or anyone else about these events.   
  
So, as John led the way back to the Blackbird, Kitty, hand in mine, told me if there were anyone to blame for Rogue's capture, it'd be John and his quick temper. And although she meant for it to be between us, John had overheard and later asked my opinion of the subject. We were at the X-Men's camp, when John cornered me, and with a stirred soul, said he wouldn't blame me if I placed Rogue's kidnapping over his head.  
  
But as much as I hate his deeds and acts of greed, I cannot heave a dire responsibility when it doesn't belong there. He smirked, a sad smirk of such mystery that I was awed at his softened side. He vowed to never rest until she was found, and held steadfast to his conviction of it being because of Remy. Sighing, he turned to me and said, "I'm afraid I've lost her ferever, Petey. But I'm willin' tah find her--though it'll be hard." I stood like rock, nodding dumbly. But face it or not, he was right.   
  
Because, being in a foreign place such as this, Rogue could be anywhere.  
  
Henri LeBeau's Journal:  
  
I found myself a chance to admire the femme-- she was pale, but grew rosy in the sunlight, lanky legs, delicate structure, bonny face, and brilliant green eyes. Belladonna was true to point out her auburn hair, but Dieu, there laid a white stripe admist the true color. She wore some sort of uniform torn and mounted with an X across her shoulders. I guess she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time--but it's strange, cuz it takes de Assassins a lot to kill or kidnap the wrong person.  
  
I mounted my tiny boat and let her sit across from me. Also, I lent her Merci's lace umbrella [which she never quite really recovered from my boat], for it was a warm day.  
  
I took t' oarin' a good deal, before she surprised me by speaking up. "Where are we goin' sir?"  
  
I was both pleased and taken aback from the abruptness of her question. "Well, I could take y' back t' yur folks..."  
  
"Ah've got none," she replied, sternly. Realizin' her harshness, she softened her tone and mentioned shyly, "Ah'm...lost."  
  
"Lost?" I smiled. "I should've guessed. Do y' belong t' Nawlins?" She shook her head, her face a radiant white. "Lousiana at all?"  
  
"Ah'm...visiting w' a coupla friends."  
  
"In dese marshes? Y' aren't seein' much," I said, and found her eyes sparkling anxiously. We sailed a while, listening to the silence between us until she said, "Yah live here?"   
  
"Why?" I asked, suspiciously.  
  
She drew back, as if she meant nothing by the question. "It's beautiful out here, sir," she complimented. I smiled to show her I still trusted her.  
  
"So, do y' have a name?" I asked, considerably shy. I saw her go red under the umbrella.  
  
"No," she retorted in a jejune voice. Startled, I blinked, seeing her displeasure at my question.  
  
"Well, d' y ' go by somethin'? At all?" I continued. Her cheeks flared.  
  
"Sure Ah do. Rogue. Dat's what everyone calls me."  
  
I wanted to complain that it didn't seem appropriate, but seeing her pale again, I nodded inward my irritation.   
  
"Rogue. Heh, thet's...thet's far from applicable, but I daresay it shall work." I held out my hand for her to shake, but she withdrew slightly, a timid look crossing her pretty face. She seemed terrifed at de sight of my hand, and sensing I musn't frighten her anymore, drew it back.  
  
"Not a shaker, I suppose?" I asked, masking the infernal crashing and burning of my pride, but her smile helped me recover.   
  
We continued our trip in silence, and I bade her come inside, before we determined to find her party. Emil met me at the door and shunned away from the stranger, but I snatched de back of his shirt an' demanded he show her some respect. Grudgingly, he said his manners and ran away with embarrassment and rage as Miss Rogue laughed quietly to herself. She asked if I owned a phone, and I disappointed her by saying we didn't. Seeing her distress, I said, "Well, Miss Rogue, yur welcome t' stay as long as y' want." Her face darkened and I noticed she was holdin' back a weep. "If my name ain't by Dieu Henri LeBeau." She suddenly grasped Merci's umbrella, and I found her rasping, "Did yah say LeBeau? Y' aren't related ta...Remy LeBeau, are ya?"  
  
I smirked. "Sure am, Miss. Why--y' know him?" We heard a clatter from the stairs and as if summoned, my brother came romping down the stairs formidably.   
  
"Henri! Boy, am I glad I found y'! I've actually figured thet if we steal.." He then lifted his head from his plan, and his eyes centered in at Miss Rogue. "Well, what're y' doin' w' de Chere? Aren't y' married already...?" Rogue turned t' him and he stood, amazed and caught up in his own words.  
  
"Rogue?!" he let the word drop from his lips like an anvil. She did the same, only with his name.  
  
There wasn't even a darned silence--Rogue had sprinted, ready to clobber my dirtbag of a brother.  
  
"Yah frickin' bastard! Yur ALIVE!!!" she cried, as Remy raced back upstairs for his life.  
  
"Oh Dieu! Merde, Henri!" he snapped in response. There was a slam of a door, and I heard Rogue screaming, "Come out yah lying dead man! Swamp Rat!" she was rapping with her fists on the door, and hell, I just listened, laughing. Old girlfriend, I easily presumed, climbing the stairs to follow the racket. Rogue had the door against her first, teeth barred and ready to lunge if he dared to open the door. "Dammit Remy! Open the damn door! Yah owe me an explanation NOW!" Her fist clubbed the door and something distinct cracked violently. I realized she'd beat until her knuckles were sore and bloody and didn't hesitate to snatch her from her dangerous plight. She didn't resist me, but cowered from my hands as if they were venomous. I grew agitated and insisted she inform me of her discomfort with my touch, only to receive no particular answer to speculate or ease my impatience.  
  
"Ah'm sorry, Henri. Ah'm...not very good, dealin' with hands," she said, so quietly it seemed as if she were talking to herself. Noticing my harshness over a simple touch, I scolded myself and offered her Etienne's (Dieu rest his soul) room to make up for my nasty tongue. Much to my satisfaction, she agreed, and stayed there until Merci came home. My wife found the matter of Rogue interesting and told me to invite her down for dinner.   
  
But as I was walking up there, I found Remy outside his door, a look of unfufillment settlin' in his eyes. I stopped, but only to smirk at this unbelievably pathetic sight.   
  
"Who is she, Rems?" I found myself asking, curiously. He turned to me and sighed a curse.  
  
"Somebody I knew," he replied simply, flippin' through his card deck. I knew that look--it told his bein' upset. My smirk widened into a smile.  
  
"She's pretty," I put in, as I saw Remy's hand clutch the cards. "Can't see why you left." He threw me one of his infamous, angry glances.  
  
"I wasn't w' her, genius," he spat, as if I reminded him of the hurtful truth. Maybe that's why he's upset, I thought, he can't -have- her. "And I'll be damned if I should."  
  
"Ain't thet a shame," I muttered, sarcastically. But he was so drawn to the imagination of her proximity, he hardly heard.  
  
"Well," I started up again after a long silence. "Why don't you invite her down t' dinner? Laides like thet--I mean, Merci's always flattered when I do..." He gave me a quick look that informed little, but as if on impulse, steadily walked to the room where she was staying. He forced open the door [being that Remy never was the one to knock].  
  
There was a long pause and I wondered how far Remy could take it, before his voice said, "Hey." I peered in, and saw she hadn't turned to him. "You hungry? Merci's put on some gumbo downstairs..." She tensed at his invitation, which made Remy back away a bit. "What's wrong, Cherie?" he asked, suddenly sweet. "You always accepted when I asked you out..." Rethinking his words, he quickly recovered with, "to..food." She murmured something inaudible to Remy's or my ears.  
  
"What was thet?" he asked her quietly.  
  
"Don't call me Cherie." Remy cringed, but didn't run.  
  
"Den what d'ya want me tah call y'?"  
  
"Get out," she sneered.   
  
"Why do y' resist Remy? Nobody ca..."  
  
"Ah -hate- yah!" She turned to him, green eyes ablaze with agitation. Startled, he retreated, closing the door behind him.   
  
Oh Dieu, I sighed, as Remy turned to me, his face darkened from bitterness. He passed without any word, slammin' the door to his room as soon as he got through. Finding nothing more to do, I proceeded downstairs, not wanting my now cold but still awaitng meal.   
  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
* - See Author's Note  
  
Faeryeyes: How in the world were you able to review twice?! Everytime I try, it says "Only one review per chapter". Fanfiction.Net is sick.   
  
Ishandahalf: Hehehe, sorry about the confusion. It says explanation but I'm just making things worse...oh, well. To make the story work...*sighs*  
  
LilSweetCherryBlossom: I agree that it IS boring and I was afraid it didn't flow and you assured that it didn't, so now I'll try to make it flow for now on :)  
  
Rogue Worrior Spirit: My objective completely. It seems when Rogue likes Remy, she needs John, but when she's with John she needs Remy. What could she possibly agree to?  
  
Disturbed Courtney: I'm glad you agree to the POVs, because in this way, you get a clearer view of how John is, Remy was, Rogue could be...Yes, in other words, the truth.  
  
Pyromaniac: So sorry about John. I'll try to be nicer to him, I promise. Thank you for letting me use your story on my site--I'll post it as soon I can:)  
  
Starlightz6: It's either you've read my mind or I'm not being subtle enough with this story. But I also agree with Jubes--you don't center a story invovling an important figure, only to have him die in the first chapter. It's just not right.  
  
Erica: Thank you for loving my stories! Again, I should say you've also managed to read my mind--are you plotting against my storyline? *suspicious glances* To answer your question about John dating Rogue, it's all very explanatory. He loves -her-, and he doesn't want to dump her because then Remy would win her and who wants Remy to win at all? Certainly not John. I also like your alternate ending, but you're forgetting John's still with Rogue and Remy has to get by him to get through to her. All in all, somebody must win, and it takes time to lead up to the finish, as you can see with my slow updates *scowls at myself*  
  
Alecia Moureux: I'm sorry for making you think I'd leave you all in suspense as I've done in the past, so I hope the long chapters make up for it. The POVs are a different approach for me, so I'm glad you like them and for being patient with my slow updates.  
  
Sabby13: Actually, you're right about Rogue's smoking--she does it because she's depressed. Fanfiction.Net is ever so rude in not permitting you to read my story--but I'm glad it finally did.  
  
Fuzzy Elf: Do you think I should send out notices of when my story hits Fanfiction.Net so you don't have to wonder for so long? And about Kitty--I can't stand her -likes-, so I try not to write too many of them in the same chapter because, seriously, they're annoying.  
  
Makura Koneko: Thank you for adding me to your favorite's list! I'll try not to be those procrastinating authors who take forever to update, but I must warn you. I'm taking summer classes now, and when I do write, it's during geometry, since it's so boring to learn during the summer.  
  
  
  
Up next: Rogue's POV (sorry I didn't get around to it this time) :P, Prof's, and Remy's. 


	3. Not out of Nawlins Yet

Rumor has It  
  
By Ariesque  
  
Genre: Adventure/Mystery/Romance  
  
Rating: PG--PG-13 for some language   
  
Story Dedication: To Loliatas-Sister for her kindest cooperation on Remy's background and family. From all that I have, thank you.  
  
Author's Notes: From Martiza Manga [thank you] --Tante Mattie is the "traiteur", -the spiritual healer and mystic guide- to both the Thieves and Assassins of New Orleans. She is the mother-figure to every member of the Guilds, being a lot older than all of them. She has always been considered to be part of both Guilds, which often put her in the middle of their conflicts. X-Men Evo is coming back to KWB [rejoice, cable owners and local channelers alike]! Be sure to watch it, it's new, and...yeah. Sorry I didn't get around to posting this last week; had an essay due. Before you look over Remy's POV and yell, "What the hell happened to his accent?!" Consider my sanity and typing precision. I have neither left from Henri's and I just gave up with Remy's. If it bothers you, pretend it's some kind of diary entry. Anything that makes you forget about his accent. :P   
  
Chapter Three: Not out of Nawlins Yet  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
1. Rogue's Writings:  
  
Random parchment paper # 1, on this treacherous day of July the twenty-fifth, MMIII:  
  
Unfortunate luck I have! To be kidnapped, cradled in the crib of death, mingled in a ruthless family quarters, where I met up with a past [and preferably dead] love, dueled with him for the morning, and left to die a humiliating death of beef jerky and soy sauce.   
  
And what was I to think, asking for a fountain pen and scrap paper, that I'd end up with no money, no -good- food, and a drippy nose without even an umbrella to shelter me from the rain? Oh yes, it has definitely started to rain [although I haven't seen a day in July with rain until today], and here I am, crouching under some unemployment office, munching on jerky [that I've managed to get with soy sauce from a some sidewalk vendor, free of charge] and can you blame me for feeling abandoned?  
  
This is all Remy LeBeau's fault. For every moment I live I wish him dead--deader than the X-Men believe he is.  
  
You do not comprehend how much -hate- I have compacted in my chest--it's enough for Lucifer to step down and crown me the ruler of all Hell...  
  
Oh Henri LeBeau by Dieu, why couldn't you have left me to the mercy of Belladonna? At least I'd know I died in the presence of -somebody--there ain't anybody for a mile around--not like the Nawlins I always pictured, with police raiding some group at some stoplight...  
  
Enough feeling sorry for myself. I've only so much room, and who knows when I'd be fortunate enough again to acquire another random paper, so I'll explain the purpose for my lamenting. Dearest John, if you only knew...  
  
I don't know how I did it, but when I finally woke up, I heard distant voices from outside my window, and c'mon--who doesn't hate being woken up by somebody else from a reason beyond your understanding?  
  
So I prop myself up, unlatch the window, and stick my head out to see who dareth disturb me at this hour. Turns out it was that supercilious Emil person-cousin, whatever, so I figured I should better keep my trap shut, because I don't have anything against the guy...yet. And what d'ya know? He noticed me [although I don't blame the guy: when one sticks one's head out the window, one is bound to be noticed] and shouts, "Well, g'mornin' femme! How'd y' sleep?" I liked his change of personality and decided I should respond, when another, more familiar voice rang in, "Who y' be talkin' t', Emil? Dere be another cat y' found?" There was no denying it--this one was Remy.  
  
Not possessing the desire to speak to the "dead man", I proceeded to hastily pull my head back, but underestimating how low the sill was, knocked my cranium against the window. I flung my head forward, and hung there, recollecting the pain surging through my brain.  
  
Then from below: "Chere? I--I mean, Rogue?" Remy demanded Emil away, and I carefully pulled my head safely inside again. The Cajun still hung around, saying, "Rogue? You okay?"  
  
Annoyed, I replied, "Scram, swamp rat. I was doing fine w' Emil until you arrived." He didn't go, though. Still there, red eyes and all.  
  
So I said, "Ain't it clear enough? What the heck are you still doing here?"  
  
"I'm..." a sad smile drew across his face, and I swear, I would've uprooted the tree he was under and whacked him halfway across the world to China if I wasn't so far away. "I'm reminiscin'."  
  
"You're -what-??? God help you, ya bast..." but I didn't finish, because I had swatted the window contraption, and down went the window on my precious fingers.  
  
I daresay I screamed.  
  
Of course I panicked. It was my left hand, on the same arm I had broken a few months before and I can't tell you how much I was jumbling and jabbering, trying to lift the latch off my fingers. Somehow, it had rusted something mighty thick, and I wasn't helping with my fidgeting.  
  
So there I was, staring at my dearest fingers, knowing they were numb by now, and wondering how'd it'd look with them amputated.   
  
Suddenly, a person appeared from the other side, and I screamed. Not because I was surprised, oh no.   
  
But because that person turned out to be Remy.   
  
He reached under the latch and pulled open the rusted contraption with the expertise of those only skilled thieves would possess, and I whisked my hand away from underneath. I glanced at him, awkwardly. He stared back, his face expressionless.  
  
Then, I remembered what he made me go through and quickly pushed down the rest of the window. The shock of my sudden movement caused him to jerk his hands back as to not get trapped, and teetered on the branch before he fell off.  
  
I daresay -he- screamed.   
  
Too bad for me, he didn't break his back. No-- he had caught hold of the branches, and slowly got down from the tree. Lucky LeBeau, I thought, furious at his fortune. He looked up at my window, saluted, and entered the manor.   
  
Two minutes later, there was a knock at my door, and I replied, "Go away, Remy. I've had enough of you for today." There was a short silence before a voice returned, "It's not Rems, chere. Dis be Henri."  
  
"Henri!" I flashed a grin, and swung open the door. There he stood, a face so fresh, attire so mild, he couldn't be of any contrast to his brother. And yet, I liked him better.  
  
"Y' hungry, chere? Tante's got some fruit on de table if y' are." I blushed, appreciative.  
  
"Thanks, Henri, but I think I'll wait 'till Remy's gone." Henri nodded, understandingly.  
  
"Still on bad terms?"  
  
"He lied to my friends and not to mention me. I rather not talk to him if I can avoid it." Henri smiled, a brilliant one that lit up his face.  
  
"Come down now, chere. He's out w' Theo, so y' can." He offered me his arm, and checking twice to see if I should, I wrapped my gloved hand under it, as he led me into the kitchen. There sat two women I didn't know, a basket of fruit between them, and a look of curiousity across both their faces. We were introduced, and I was offered some strawberries, much to my delight. As I downed my fifth strawberry, Emil suddenly burst in, and upon seeing me, blushed scarlet.  
  
"Morning Tante, Merci, Henri," he greeted, and nodded to me. "'Scuse me f' interruptin', but I heard de femme was lost...?" I nodded, and his blush deepened. "Well, I thinks we must take de boat up and drive de bus down t' de square..."  
  
"Where y' can see every bit of Nawlins from! Ga lee, Emil--you're quite some genius!" cried Henri. He turned to me and grinned. "Shall we take y' now?" He asked me.  
  
"I guess. I..." I pushed back the basket, but Merci pushed it back into my possession.   
  
"It's yours, mon ami. Nice meetin' y'," she said, smiling. I took up the basket and thanking them all, followed the men out to the boats, the docks, and finally to the bus station.  
  
It wasn't very long before we encountered the two thieves who'd left before us--when I recognized Remy as one; I immediately rushed behind Henri, hoping he'd just pass.  
  
Boy can I underestimate.  
  
"Well, if it isn't the charismatic companions and..what's this? Rogue? Leavin' so soon?" asked the red-eyed thief, coming round to glare at us.  
  
Henri, God bless him, came between us.  
  
"Beat it, Rems. We're returnin' her soon as y' leave." Remy raised a sly eye at his brother.  
  
"Ga lee, Henri. Soft spot f' your stowaway? Well, see if y' last long on her list," he rasped.  
  
I countered for Henri with: "And how 'bout your list, LeBeau?" You think I was even on -that-?" Theo snickered, Henri paled, and Emil called that the bus was about to leave, but I didn't move. How could I? Not when Remy stood there, facing me with a malignant stare.  
  
Then with a sneer, "Bien Dieu, take her away, Henri. She sickens me."  
  
Which I attacked, "Who can deny you as a fiend?" He glared at me.  
  
"Witch."  
  
"Traitor."  
  
"Liar."  
  
"Stop!" cried Henri, grabbing my arm, which kept me from socking LeBeau. "Emil's right. We should catch thet bus. Theo, make sure Remy gits home now." The trench coat clad antagonist barred his teeth.  
  
"Dis ain't over, Rogue."  
  
"Who needs to end it? Forget it even started," I retaliated. We exchanged evil glares as Henri dragged me onto the bus, and plopped me down next to Emil. Then, he turned to the boy and said he'd need to follow Theo; else he'd have no peace of Remy. I thanked him once more before he jumped off, taking a sprint back to the docks.  
  
It was then Emil broke the silence by whispering, "You're one o' dem, aren't you?" He startled me; I tried to ignore the annoyance besetting on my face.  
  
"Who's 'them', Emil?" I asked, mindlessly.   
  
"You know," his voice so quiet, I could barely hear, "a mutant." I popped a strawberry into my mouth, trying to think of what to say.  
  
"Who told ya? That brute, Remy?" Emil nodded. "Well, I'm not dat bad--not as bad as he." Emil sat back, looking disturbed.  
  
"He told me de real reason he left your manor," he continued, clutching his coat, "said it was a duty to s'port the guild. For Etienne.  
  
"Etienne?" I asked, absently. Emil's eyes clouded for a second.  
  
"Cousin of Rems."   
  
"Oh."  
  
"He died." I choked.   
  
"Why so?"   
  
He sat back, debating over what to say. "Remy was in charge o' his Tithing and things...just went wrong." I turned to the boy, as if I understood. We sat in the bus, silent from our previous conversation, until I said, "I'd like to see him, if you don't mind.  
  
He didn't.  
  
***  
  
The graveyard was empty, except for a few people paying their respects. Emil led me to a small corner in the whole lot--a sprucing grave, no headstone, but piles of magnificent flowers before a pile of dirt.  
  
"The pile o' dirt's for his headstone. Remy comes everyday to bring flowers and shave de grass," explained Emil. I nodded, patting the dirt thoughtfully.  
  
"Must've been a good guy, making Rems come back to tend his grave and all," I mused aloud. Emil grinned, sadly.  
  
"Remy blames it on himself everyday."  
  
I gave him a quick look. "When did Etienne die anyway?"  
  
"Less than a month ago. Sad lot our Remy was--stayed out here 'til we made him come back. Jean Luc -that's Remy's pops- seemed disappointed, and Dieu only knows how Remy felt when they laid de body dere. Said he'd stay an work f' a headstone."  
  
"Remy has been through a lot," I muttered. Emil nodded.  
  
"Well, Rems is strong. And I'd better take y' up t' de square 'Fore Henri comes lookin' f' me, demandin' where I been," he said, tearin' across the graveyard. I blew Etienne a kiss and bounded after my young companion.   
  
He led me to the Square and I told him I'd be fine from here, despite his pleas to keep him as a guide. But me being the stupid one here, shooed him away and now am paying for it. I reckon I've been up and down the square twenty times now and still see no one familiar.  
  
Right now, I really could use someone like John. Or Kitty.  
  
Or maybe even Remy.   
  
Anyone, really, who would redeem me from this unrelenting rain.  
  
2. Professor Charles Xavier  
  
Jubilation said, "Well, I'm sure glad Rogue got lost." and I looked sideways at her, to reply, "That's a terrible thing to say." If Rogue hadn't been "kidnapped" [never could bring myself to believe Kitty's story. I think she lost Rogue], then we wouldn't be circling New Orleans in a dirty, smelly bus, that I had to pay $5.50 for (who pays $5.50 for two bus fares? [apparently me]).   
  
"But think of it this way, Prof.," she continued, chewing intransigently on the same wad of gum for God knows how long, "if Rogue weren't "kidnapped" and Remy is supposedly "dead" [not that I believe that junk. But this isn't about what I think], you'd still be working on your Atkins' Diet and watching Larry King Live." I frowned to emphasis I didn't enjoy her knowing I was on the wretched diet or watching such a show [must've been that blasted Logan who snitched. Or Ororo. I shall need to inquire around].  
  
"Look, Miss Lee," I said, trying to maintain such a friendly composure, "I'm not in any mood to reside to any conclusions, and I hate to have you "like" seeing Rogue and Remy gone, when both are considered dead at this period of time. I do not enjoy having to listen to you in a disgusting bus or do I like the idea of having to drive around, when our tickets only bring us so far, and I do not want or desire to continue any further without cooperation from your part." I did so like what I said, but Jubilation was far from attentive. She had turned her head, and was now staring stiffly out, her eyes seemingly glued to the glass.  
  
"Hey, that looks like Remy," I heard her mutter. I was outraged with having spent such a speech thick with words to have it thrown aside so she could look at Remy look-alikes.   
  
So in an effort to gain audience, I growled. "That's it! We're going back to the camp!"  
  
"But Prof..."  
  
"You heard me! I can't understand why we even are here in the first place!" She said no more, but pouted and muttered to herself, "But it -was- him."  
  
"You can call regrets later on," I returned, and sat back, agitated and worn more than ever.   
  
3. Remy LeBeau  
  
My arms ache from the sudden strain directed upon them because of Rogue. Rogue. The name still stings my eyes and I'm lost in my own world. Rogue. She's gone, I remind myself. Nothing to care about. Nothing to worry over.  
  
But no. This is Rogue, mon ami, the disfunctional beb who can't tell directions from ingredients. This be the same girl who mixes Korn and Michelle Branch. She be the one I never could let go.  
  
Sure, there've been other girls in my life. Jean, for one, who tasted sweet, Belladonna, a lemon that leaves the tang on your tongue from now 'til kingdom come. But Rogue was different. Rogue I never tasted.  
  
She's the only girl I've liked and never even touched her lips with my own. A cake with terrible icing, in fact. Can I get one kiss? Fist, I'll sock your ugly nose in. Can I get some coffee with your sugar? Shall I knock your red eyes in so hard they turn white?   
  
So much for the theory that girls are so easy to win. Rogue defies everything I've ever believed and so much more.  
  
But what I can't get over is the fact I can't get over her. She's got some sort of lock on me, and putain, is it strong.  
  
That's why I needed to sneak out, to stalk the forbidden fruit. Under Henri's wide nose and up 'til I reached town. Dieu, it was raining [not a day in July have I ever seen one like today], and I was miserable. Had on my best frock and Henri's boots, because I wanted to impress her. Rogue? Impressed by a philanderer? Go figure.  
  
Rode the bus up 'til I got to the Square. Thought I saw Jubes on another bus while I was getting my things-- or rather, other people's belongings-- together. The rain was really rattling now, and I could hear my conscience screaming at me to get back before Henri caws palavers as he usually does. But then, my heart argued: Rogue. The girl who calls me wretched and loves John?  
  
Oui.  
  
It ain't long before I make up my mind to find her. It didn't take long either. She is in the cemetery. Dieu, she stands like a statue in the mortuary, and I almost thought her as one. But tell me, who has auburn hair with a white stripe in a mortuary? Rogue, femme of my misfortune that's who. Drenched in rain and soaked well to the bone, she's like the Grim Reaper himself.  
  
She's beautiful.  
  
I want to laugh, to tell her I won after all, that it was obvious she'd fall before I did. But who can say such to someone they can't let go of? Dieu, not me.  
  
She's standing by a gravestone, head bent, and as I draw closer, I know she's crying. I've been through it all because of her, and yet I still can't find words of comfort. She was over Eitenne's grave. Dieu, she's even got -him- at her feet, and he's dead.  
  
"R-Rogue," I stammer, but have no time to continue, for she delivers a powerful blow to my head, and I encounter an angel statue before I could even go down. The wing cuts the side of my head and I hit the ground, wet, hurt, and most of all, confused.  
  
When I open my eyes again, she's at my side, a look of mixed concern and satisfaction on her pallid face.   
  
"Rogue," I say again, wanting to tell more. I had given her every name in the book, and now all I can utter is that word.  
  
"Remy." She brings her slim, gloved fingers to my forehead and dabs it with some sort of parchment paper. As if by reflex, I kiss her hand, and instead of drawing it back, she places it at my cheek.  
  
"Why is it," I breathe, my head dizzy, "whenever we meet, I'm always the one to get hurt by you?" The smile she shines scares me; never have I see anything like it before.  
  
"Because," she whispers. I can hear the rain buffet her body. "You never learned tah duck."  
  
I then take her hand and although I know I need to let go, she doesn't teach me how, and even if she does, I refuse to learn.  
  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Responses to Chapter Two: Southern Gamble  
  
FuzzyElf: Thank you for your consant checking up on my story. I'll heed the heads-up on translations (I never liked writing them anyway. So why bother writing it at all?)  
  
Ishandahalf: My friend said 'Passions' was cool, and the first time I saw it, I was like talking about some girl named Cheryl, and my friend was like, what are you Talking about??? So I never watched it again, because I'm easily confused [imagine me right now in geometry].   
  
Randirogue: Never fear, dear reader! I, Ariesque, am only exprimenting, and it'll only last for four chapters, so bear with me until the end of this Explanation please. And I know you've heard enough nagging on your part, but I'm really looking forward to Callous. One day, Fanfiction.Net will stop meddling with my reviews and I shall be able to review your story. Until then, I am left to curse my computer.  
  
Ravid Wolfenstein: Thank you for adding me to your Fav Authors' List, because I'm flattered by such. Oh, never read a story of Rogue staying with Remy in New Orleans in my life. But I'm bound to come across one soon. I assure you though, this story is not going in that direction, though it may seem so.   
  
Erica: Stop the madness! You, my friend, are beguiling me and my story! *laughs* But at least you're still reading...  
  
Special Thanks to: Buffyangelus for adding me to your Fav Authors' List because... I like thanking you?! No really, because you're too kind. Really. 


	4. Ambivalence

Rumor has It  
  
By Ariesque  
  
Genre: Adventure/Mystery/Romance  
  
Rating: PG--PG-13 for some language   
  
Story Dedication: To Loliatas-Sister for her kindest cooperation on Remy's background and family. From all that I have, thank you.  
  
Author's Notes: Did not really like X23. It was another one of those Logan-esque episodes where his past comes back to haunt him, and I'm not really into that sort of thing. But at least we all saw the X-Men again, and because of that, I am happy. This fic is kinda like Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights, but not really. I don't know how to explain it.   
  
Chapter Four: Ambivalence  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
1. Rogue: Random Parchment Paper I found on the desk (possibly Remy put it there)  
  
Sometime in the Morning (don't have a watch):  
  
I don't know what I'm still doing in Nawlins, really.   
  
I planned to leave. I even wanted to stick around that rotten Square so I could beg for enough money to get me back to Bayville.  
  
But you know what? I'm still here. I'm still sitting on the same bed, writing on this familiar desk, and if I'm bored I should name it Caddy. Because I'm still here.  
  
Remy carried me back. Hmph. Bleeding and brittle, he insisted on carrying me across the damn swamp because his coat couldn't cover the whole thing. I'd have refused and fussed my pretty 'lil head off (as Logan would say if he heard of such a thing), but I was damp and cold and sneezing, and who can start a riot when they're on the verge of catching a cold?  
  
So I let him carry me inside. I kept my face close to his shoulder so I wouldn't have to look at anyone while he walked. I noticed his chin nod to whomever he decided to recognize, but he neither spoke or smiled. He did, however, look at me out of the corner of his eye and I promised to sock him good if he tripped and landed on me. But he didn't, so I didn't babble, and he pushed open the door to Etienne's room before letting me roll out of his arms and into the bed. Laying on my side, I studied the awkward silence before informing him that this didn't changed anything between us.   
  
He'd do the same for Jean. Or Kitty. Last night, though, it just happened to be me.   
  
Remy said he knew, told me to sleep in, and left. Funny, because I -did- sleep in, and now have woken up to some sort of dress. It's white and laced like it was for something special. You don't think they'd throw a party for keeping me?   
  
Oh god I hope not.   
  
Past Noon:  
  
  
  
Merci came in, hauling with her a basket of strawberries she said she knew I liked. Sighing, she asked if she could sit, and ruffled her skirt before seating herself at my consent. Her eyes loomed carefully around the room, a bit pensive, and finally settled them on me for a moment. She suddenly grinned as I plucked the leaves off the strawberry I was eating.  
  
"Somehow, I knew you'd be back," she said, as I reached for another strawberry. She gazed at me, her eyes growing capricious, and continued, "Y' know? Remy hasn't bin in dis 'ere room since Etienne died. Said it brought back too many memories he'd rather forget." I tried to look away from the dangerous look gleaming on her face. "But y', Miss Rogue, y' make him forgit a lot o' things."  
  
"He told you that?" I asked, suspiciously.  
  
"Never. He don't tell me nothing--likes t' keep secrets. It's his nature." She suddenly took up the dress laying at my feet and her grin widened.   
  
"Dis 'ere's my weddin' dress."   
  
I smiled-- shyly, I admit. "It's pretty."   
  
"I want y' t' wear it."   
  
"Wear it?" I almost choked. "To what? For who?"   
  
She sat back, putting her dress against me. "Tonight. We're havin' a small barbecue tonight."   
  
"Your wedding dress at a barbecue? Isn't that...a bit inappropriate?" She raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Inappropriate? I wore it to the barbecue after my ceremony. Thet y' call inappropriate?" I blushed, stupidly and muttered my apologies, but she waved them away as if they were momentary flies.  
  
"Y'll look nice in it; anyways, your garb is soiled and tattered...and I can't fit in it anymore anyway." She tapped my shoulder and I smiled at her, involuntarily. She suddenly cupped my chin in her hand--I would've turned away if I hadn't noticed the gloves she wore.   
  
"Yes. I just hope y' won steal Henri." She winked and I blushed harder like a beet when too ripe. I've tried on the dress-- twice now, and it's so simple, I wondered if it could pass as a wedding dress. But clothes are clothes, and what fits is what I get-- even if I don't want it.  
  
Evening? I'm not so sure... Past sunset:  
  
When I stepped out into the hall with the dress on, I found Emil standing by the door, a pair of white gloves in his hand. His jaw dropped slightly, and I knew Merci's dress was the culprit of it.   
  
"E-E'enin', Miss," he stuttered. He wasn't dressed any fancier than me, but then again, he wasn't a guest. "Remy...I mean, I thought you'd need these," he continued, handing me the gloves. I pulled them on and walked with him down the stairs and into the awaiting party. Henri was the first to greet me, commenting on the dress, pulling at his shirt and flushing as if he'd have to change.   
  
"God, y' look like Merci," he mumbled, as Tante Mattie rushed me to the chair. We seated ourselves outside on the docks, lights strung up and streamers pulled down over them. Moths and flies buzzed around as Theo did his best to shoo them away from the food. Suddenly, Emil stood up, his eyebrow raised and said, "Well look who's finally here t' join us." I turned and saw Remy, followed by Belladonna, stepping unto the dock. I watched, dumbfounded I admit, seeing as she held his arm and their generous smiles exchanged. Immediately I slid down in my chair and thought about John and wanting to order him to clobber Remy for just being here. When Belladonna cocked her head and saw me, she said out loud, "Well, I see y've opened yur home t' strays now, Henri dear." I clenched my teeth, feeling rotten and deduced, when Emil piped, "Actually, Belladonna, she's my date t'night." That made me feel a bit better, though there was no actual decision as to who asked out who and who accepted. Remy then met my eyes, and I looked away, of course, my brain rattling and heart thumping something dangerous in my chest.   
  
They took their seats across from Emil and I, and dinner was served. I neglected glancing at their directions as Emil and Remy talked over me and found it hard to focus on my plate when Belladonna asked me if I spoke French.  
  
"French?" I asked. She glared at me, before shaking her pretty head.   
  
"Oh, y' ain't from Nawlins?" That's what came out of her mouth, but I saw the look in her face that read: Y' thet silly white trash from south an' neglect t' e'en learn French? An' Henri accepts y?!  
  
The thought turned my stomach sour.   
  
"So what are y' doin' here anyway?" she continued to chat. I fidgetted in my seat, desperately wanting to leave. "Remy told me y' knew him someplace before..."  
  
"I...I did," I finally said, poking my meat with my fork. She then asked why I ate with gloves, why I never looked up at their direction, if I was scared. I didn't answer, not knowing what to say, and dropped my utensils on my plate. I whispered to Henri that I was full and needed nothing more to eat, and he nodded as if he knew I just needed to get away, so he let me go. Belladonna didn't say anything until I left, and I heard her voice ring out, "Henri, why didn y' just git rid o' her? She ain't any use t' y' anyway."   
  
I stayed up until I heard each and every one of them leave. I hadn't eaten anything throughout the time I was to sit through Belladonna's teases, so I stole down the stairs, hoping nobody would mind if I saw if there be any leftovers, and found no one in the kitchen. Feeling more secure than I should've been, I made my way to the counter. Nothing. Suddenly, the door creaked from behind, and I whirled around to face Henri, who stood with a mild smirk on his face.  
  
"Dere be rats in de kitchen?" he asked, playfully. I grinned.   
  
"Just me, Henri. I got hungry."   
  
"Oh y' don have t' explain--I could hear you's stomach growl a mile away." He went over to the cupboard and passed me some hotdogs. I unwrapped the packaging and ate, thinking. Henri saw my thoughtful expression and huffed.  
  
"Don take Belladonna so personally--she ain't so bad."  
  
"Hmph," I replied, biting into the hotdog.  
  
"Seriously," he told me, leaning against the counter. "Our guilds have bin in conflicts, but since Jean Luc left on some theft with Julien, Bella's brother, things are calmer. She don fight, and Remy court her when he can."  
  
"Of course," I ripped furiously into the rest of the hotdog. When I looked at Henri again, he was grinning once more.  
  
"So thet be it," he said, and I furrowed my brow.   
  
"What is it?" I asked, not expecting any answer really.   
  
"It's Remy. You's have feelings for my rat of a brother?"   
  
I tried playing it cool. "Remorse for his sorry ass?"   
  
Henri laughed. "Y' can't lie t' no thief, cherie--dere's answers an' reasons t' everything." I looked at him, soberly.  
  
"Okay, wise guy, how'd Remy survive his 'suicide'?" Henri blew out invisible smoke rings.   
  
"It's called a boomerang tantic. Y' fall w' enough rope t' last y' 'til y' can git close 'nuff t' de building, pop into an open window you bust 'forehand, an' if anyone be watchin', they'd think y' went through de floor. Next question."   
  
"Are Remy and Belladonna together?" He grinned.  
  
"I don know. Maybe. She likes him though." I frowned, asking myself who didn't.   
  
"Why do y' think he fell?" Henri's eyes abruptly clouded, and he looked away for a moment.   
  
"Etienne." Of course, I thought, suddenly feeling stupid. Emil said Remy was hit hardest by his death. To buy a gravestone, he said. And I know Remy--when he wants something so bad, he'll get it no matter what. It seemed right--to stay with those who did loved the same person you lost. Henri glanced at me then, a pensive look in his eye.  
  
"Y' mind answerin' my question den, beb?" I blushed, speechless. He saw my blunder, and told me tell him later then, bade me good night, and was gone through the kitchen door. So what to say? What to admit? Or say nothing at all?   
  
This is too complicated.  
  
****  
  
2. Henri LeBeau ~ @ 2:30 a.m.  
  
  
  
Heard the lower level rustle. Went down to discover the femme who'd figured out how to light the fireplace. She was sitting on the couch, head against the arm rest, hair carelessly in her face. She wore her torn uniform, which I figured was newly washed for there were no grease marks where they once were. As soon as she saw my shadow, she turned, her face lit with caprice. When she realized I wasn't who she thought she expected, her eyes glazed, and she sat back to bend her head, her breathing hollow.   
  
Concerned, I came around to examine her. "Y' 'kay, chere?"   
  
"Ah'm fahne, Henri," was her answer.   
  
"Something bothering you?" She looked puzzled, so I continued, "It's just that you look anxious to leave." She put her face down, this time from shame and not disappointment.  
  
"Aw, Hen, I miss Bayville." I found myself smiling, despite her scorn.  
  
"Tired of Nawlins? Or me?"   
  
She quickly looked up. "Never! Ah just don understand why yah didn agree wit' Bella. She was right, yah know."  
  
"DIdn't have the heart to complain." We were both silent for a moment, before I decided to speak up. "You never answered my question. Why the concern for Rems? You like him...or once did?" She glanced at me, the emeralds of her eyes sparkling something so mysterious, even I couldn't even guess what this really was about.   
  
"Now, Hen. Ah can't love him. Ah've got myself a boyfriend." I played surprised as she hurried to explain. "Ah'll admit Ah did lahke Remy...at some point. But dat was when he asked his girlfriend tah marry him, and Ah thought...Ah could...but...it got complicated, and Ah...couldn't stand it anymore."  
  
"So you just gave up." She turned on me, eyes blazing fire.  
  
"Ah didn just 'give up'!" she cried, "Remy just didn want me and what's the use in tryin' when yah know yah can't have none of it?" She looked away, momentarily.  
  
After a certain silence, I said, "You sound decided, but can't look the part."  
  
She smiled, wearily. "Ah tried too hard, sought what Ah could, and deserved what Ah got. Yah see: Ah'm happy without Remy; Ah'm glad Ah got John."  
  
At this point, I saw a shadow move from its place behind the hall way door, and I was afraid it was Emil up to his usual eavesdropping, but my heart sunk when I recognized the footsteps.  
  
"Hold your tongue! We aren't alone!" I commanded. She paled--paler than what she already was-- and let her mouth gape at me. After the footsteps faded and the front door slammed, I told her that Remy had been in the other room, listening. With this, she got up with a start of fright.  
  
"Henri! Oh, Gawd, Henri!" She clung to my shirt front. " He couldn've heard mah gabbin'...he shouldn! Do yah think Ah've upsetted him? Are yah sure it was him? Henri--oh--what am Ah tah do?" I gazed into those eyes that shed merciless tears, and didn't want to tell her I wasn't so sure myself.  
  
"Serves him right, eavesdroppin' when he ain't got purpose t'," I finally told her.  
  
"Serves me raiht f' not carin'!" she scolded herself, and raced out the front door. She ran, screaming his name, voice cracking under anguish. I found myself looking in Tante's garden, wondering where he got to this time, but it was all in vain. There was no sign of him a mile around the bayou..as if he just vanished. I'd hate to admit if somebody were to accuse me of caring, but I was afraid he had gone and done something drastic, like fall off another building, but this time, without the rope.   
  
But then I reassured myself--why would he kill himself over something that wasn't his in the first palce? Remy's dumb, but he sure ain't stupid.  
  
So I went to find Rogue--and what a pitiful mess she was, her hair drippin' with new shower and clothes even more tattered from rushing through the bristles and thorns. She said nothing when she was back in my presence once more, but I knew she had the blame above her head, though it wasn't worthy or meant to be there. She looked sore and hard and worn, but from running or waiting, I'm yet to say.  
  
---  
  
Well past three in the morning, we heard Remy's footsteps against the hard, wooden corridor, pounding with blatant heaviness. When he entered the parlor, Rogue rose from her place by the fire, but Remy resisted looking at her.  
  
"If y're ready, I've found you's party, and y' may leave," was what he told her, though facing me. I saw Rogue's growing deplorement, and said, "Rogue may stay s'long as she likes, Remy. I grant her permission..."  
  
"I say, she -shall- leave, f' if y' can recall, brother," he snarled, "thet's all she ever wanted t' do since we were damned t' grace her exsistence."   
  
I was about to counter this fact, but Rogue rushed at me, whispering, "It's best if Ah do leave, Henri. Oh, dis is all mah fault." She managed to hug me before following Remy out the door.   
  
"Remy," I started, but never finished, for he slammed the door in my face, not wanting my confidence or reprimanding, any more than the pretty dame he was to lead to her haven.   
  
***  
  
"This is useless!"   
  
Scott made fists and blew out his breath. "Stop whining Kurt! We haven't even wandered a mile and you're already complaining!"   
  
"But even Jean knows this is useless! Can't we turn back?"  
  
"The professor said..."  
  
"Screw what the Professor said! I say diz iz pointless and I'm going back!" cried Kurt, who teleported before Scott could object. He then turned to Jean, who stood, next to Evan, dazzled with fatigue.  
  
"Are you going to follow him?" he asked them. Jean shook her head.  
  
"I'm staying here as long as you're leading." She was certainly afraid to wander away. Evan nodded to imply he went with whatever Jean said. Scott smiled to himself. A night of searching for a body you'd never recover with the girl of your dreams and a guy you could worry nothing about? It were moments like these he couldn't help but like.   
  
"I think I see something up ahead!" cried Jean. She parted the tall grass with her powers, and low and behold, there stood a manor, simply in the middle of nowhere, lit with a single light. Quickly, Scott led the small pack to the front door, where he knocked. Instantaneously, the door flew open, and there stood a tall man, the darkest expression anyone could wear, on his long, sad face.   
  
"Um, good morning, sir," started Scott, who was obviously talking for the group. "We're wondering if you've seen anyone by the name of Rogue...um, five foot six, wears her hair down... right?" he turned to Jean who nodded. "Right. White streak..." The man's eyebrows jumped as if he knew something, but settled back to their cowering place.   
  
"Y' just missed her."   
  
"We what?!" cried Evan, but was quickly shushed by Jean.   
  
"Do you know which direction she went?" asked Scott, eagerly. The man shrugged.  
  
"Sorry." The door was closed, and the three looked at each other, obviously defeated.   
  
"What are we gonna tell the Professor?" asked Evan, and got no answer.  
  
***   
  
3. Rogue  
  
We didn't speak when we boarded the short bus trip to the Square for the third and last time. We sat across from each other, Remy's face forever against th' glass. Ah opened my mouth an' found words tah speak: "Remy."  
  
He cut me off, though, wit', "I've heard enough, Rogue. Y' needth repeat anythin' or excuse yourself o' you's feelings." Ah grew silent, but dan said, "How much did ya hear?"   
  
His face remained remorseful against th' window as if he'd be damned if he should dare look at me. "Everything," was his answer, almost inaudible. My heart sunk wit' sickened sadness.   
  
We got off at th' first train stop, where we walked under Remy's umbrealla f' rain clouded the early morning. Ev'n though our arms collided thrice and Ah almost slipped before Remy managed tah save me from a pitiful fall, he did so grudgingly, and Ah said nothing for my own throat knew no words tah speak. We walked in anguished silence, before Remy quit walking and pointed toward a small hill.  
  
"They're campin' dere f' de while. It'd be best if y' should git down 'fore dey worry anymore." Ah gave him a a quick glance.  
  
"Yah not coming?" He never ev'n looked my way.  
  
"I'll see y' off here." Still, Ah wouldn't budge. He finally grew agitated wit' mah steady endurance.  
  
"Y' waitin' f' somethin', Rogue?" he asked, trying tah mask th' bitterness in his voice. Again, Ah tried explaining th' situation.  
  
"Rems...what Ah said back there, yah know, it's onl.." Ah stopped; th' hand clutching th' umbrealla tightened its grip.   
  
"Rogue, nothing is simple t' say. I'm..." he sighed here, "I'm just sorry I always disappointed y' when y' expected so much more." He handed me his umbrella, and Ah swear, his face darkened and he turned to conceal th' tears dat fell without consent. My heart buckled, and Ah fled, running --afraid of nothing and yet scared by something.   
  
"John!" Ah was screaming, again and again, for it was th' only name Ah could think about, other dan th' one Ah had left behind. Ah was crying all th' while, but for what was yet tah be said. At th' sound o' my voice, John appeared from inside th' X-Jet, stricken wit' surprise. But when he saw me, he brightened immediately and opened his arms. My heart burst upon realizing my tears were not from joy of seeing him, but rather, from losing another.   
  
Ah seized him in my arms and collapsed against his protection.   
  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Responses to Chapter Three: Not out of Nawlins yet  
  
Fuzzy Elf: I understand, but the only explanation can only be Prof DID read her mind but he still didn't want to believe her. You know, you can only believe what you want to believe.  
  
Mashpotatobunny: You changed your ID name thingy magigy! How kewl--you like potatoes too! My family's like crazy about rice, and I'm the only that eats potatoes, so...yeah. And about the Prof with Jubes, maybe, but it's a different side of him. :P  
  
Guardian795: I don't think I thanked you yet for adding me to your fav authors' list, but if I did, well, good on ya! Actually, Rogue had a double meaning to the statement. Duck, from getting hit by her blows, and from ducking from love.  
  
Ishandahalf: Um, not really. But when I'm angry, I take it out in my fics. Noticed how in Snow in April I added getting one point less on my Romeo and Juliet recitation? Yeah, I do that sometimes.  
  
Gambitsgirl: I'm just happy you read and reviewed this story. That makes me keep writing. This story seemed Romy, didn't it? I hope so...  
  
Disturbed Courtney: Yeah! You reviewed again! Just that I like seeing you read my stories because I love yours! And you're the only one that understood the Prof's anger. He's just agitated and irritated! Don't murder me for showing him angry [it's not the first time I've changed personalities on characters :)]  
  
Yumiko: I hope you've enjoyed reading this. Glad you liked my previous stories :)  
  
Rogue Pryde: I'm proposing the idea of delivering notices when I have updated a story, if there should be another one. Interested? E-mail me if you are at: litteraeironie@msn.com  
  
Special Thanks to: Puddles the duck and Miss Attitude and to anyone else I've forgotten to thank for adding me to their fav authors' lists! I shall tip my hat once again ;)  
  
Any Requests for a Third Journal or Personal Account? If you're tired of this story going on and on, let me know. Because if I get enough of that, I'll stop writing. But if you like them, I'll write more. We'll just see how long it gets. 


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